


Blood Brother

by Bookworm1063



Series: Not So Rotten [2]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 01:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm1063/pseuds/Bookworm1063
Summary: Evie reunites with an old friend on the first day of middle school, and realizes that his life is very different from her own.Prequel to Wednesday in a Cafe.





	Blood Brother

**Author's Note:**

> tw: We all know what Cruella de Vil is like.

**Eleven Years Ago**

At six years old, Evie was one of the most adorable children in Auradon City. Everyone said it. Her older sister, Snow; her mother, Grimhilde; Mrs. Next Door with her umbrella and her rat dog; the TA in her kindergarten class. Even her mother’s new business partner, but Evie didn’t like it as much when Ms. de Vil called her _adorable_. When most people said it, it sounded like a compliment. When Ms. de Vil said it, it sounded like a threat.

Ms. de Vil had a son, only a year younger than Evie, and whenever their mothers got together to discuss fashion business, Evie and Carlos would hide under tables and inside cabinets, playing with the scraps of fabric and thread that were always left out in both of their houses.

Then Grimhilde Mills discovered that Cruella de Vil had been using illegally acquired furs in her clothes for years. Her famous dalmatian-print coat, the one that had sold to the Queen of England for half a million dollars, was made from _real_ dalmatians. Dalmatian _puppies._

Evie and Carlos were playing together, huddled under Evie’s kitchen table, when they heard their mothers storm in. Evie automatically reached for Carlos when she heard raised voices.

“I’m sorry, Cruella,” Grimhilde was saying. “It’s just not right.”

“This will ruin me,” Cruella said. “Please, Grimhilde. The lawyer alone-”

“I can’t,” Grimhilde said. “And I won’t. Please, just leave.”

Cruella didn’t say anything else for a moment. Then the tablecloth above them was whisked away, and Evie and Carlos both flinched away from the light.

“Carlos. We’re leaving,” Cruella snapped.

Carlos didn’t say anything. He just clung tighter to Evie.

“Honestly, child,” Cruella sighed, reaching under the table to grab Carlos. He screamed and reached for Evie. Evie squeezed his hands in her own, and one sharp-taloned hand slapped them away. 

“Cruella.” Evie’s mother stood over them now. “Leave. And don’t lay another finger on my child, do you understand me?”

Cruella and Grimhilde sized each other up for a moment. Then Cruella swept Carlos into her arms and carried him from the room.

The sound of his sobs echoing down the hall wasn’t something Evie would ever forget.

o-o-o-o-o

**Six Years Later**

Northern Wei Middle School was the only middle school in Auradon City. Even the kids from the Isle, the run-down area that was technically part of Auradon but seemed to operate by its own set of rules, went to Northern Wei.

Which is how Evie ended up with the locker right next to a boy with pure white hair and an oversized red and black leather jacket.

Evie squinted at the boy as she hung her shiny new lunchbox in her not-so-shiny old locker. His bag had a hole in it, and his lunchbox was a plastic grocery bag. There was a bruise on his cheekbone, and from the way he was leaning to the left, Evie guessed there was something wrong with his right leg.

He was clearly an Isle kid, and Evie’s mother had always warned her to stay away from the Isle.

She hadn’t said anything about kids at school, though, and Evie didn’t actually have many friends.

“Hi!” she said, sticking her hand out. “I’m Evie.”

The boy turned around, and though he didn’t quite meet Evie’s gaze, she was immediately struck by the feeling that she’d met him before.

He didn’t take her hand, and after a moment, Evie dropped it. She sighed in disappointment and started to walk away.

“I’m Carlos.” It was said so softly, Evie almost thought she’d imagined it.

_Carlos_. Evie could have sworn she’d heard the name somewhere…

She remembered someone screaming. Huddled under a table, listening to their mothers fight. Playing in the back of the pantry with scraps of fabric.

Her smile lit up her face.

“Carlos… what is it? de Vil?”

A tiny gin seemed to flicker across Carlos’ mouth. “You remember.”

“Yeah.” Evie watched as Carlos closed up his locker, and fell into step beside him. “So we’re kind of already friends, right?”

Carlos looked at Evie, then nodded.

“Awesome.”

o-o-o-o-o

Evie was thrilled to discover that Carlos was in her first period history class, and they walked to the classroom together, talking. Well, Evie talked. Carlos mostly listened.

Evie made sure to sit next to Carlos in every class they had together, and by the time she got off the bus that afternoon, she was on top of the world. She’d made a _friend_.

Technically they’d already been friends, but still.

“Mom?” Evie called, toeing off her sneakers on the front doormat. “I’m home!”

“Hi, love.” Grimhilde stepped out of the room she used as a studio. Evie could just see her older sister, draped in fabric and standing on a raised podium, surrounded by sewing supplies and drawings pinned to the wall. “How was school?”

“Great!” Evie felt a grin split her face. “Carlos was there.”

“Carlos?” Grimhilde looked confused.

“Carlos de Vil? Ms. de Vil’s son?” Evie couldn’t believe her mother had forgotten.

“Oh!” Grimhilde’s face cleared immediately. “I didn’t realize you still remembered him.” 

“He’s my friend.” Evie dropped her backpack at her mother’s feet. “I’ll be upstairs.”

o-o-o-o-o

Evie didn’t have every class with Carlos, but she hung out with him every chance she got. They sat together at lunch, and Evie told Carlos stories about her family, and about the clothes she wanted to design one day, and about her sister’s new fascination with hairstyling.

Some days, Carlos didn’t come to school at all. Evie usually assumed he was sick, until he returned a few days later, sometimes limping, or holding his arm at a strange angle. He never answered when she asked if he was okay. 

Evie mentioned it to her mom, once. “Carlos was sick again today,” she said, hopping up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“Was he?” Grimhilde asked, setting a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk in front of Evie.

“Yeah,” Evie said, reaching for the snack. “He’s sick a lot.”

“That’s too bad,” Grimhilde murmured. “I hope he’s seeing a doctor.”

Evie frowned. “I don’t know.”

She made a mental note to ask Carlos about it the next day, but she forgot.

o-o-o-o-o

“Do you want to come home with me today?”

Carlos looked up from his locker, frowning. Evie was standing next to him, having just closed her own locker, and she was bouncing excitedly from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know,” Carlos said, glancing away, down at his books. “My mother wants me to come home right after school.”

“It’ll be fun,” Evie pleaded. “My sister’s gonna dye her hair, and she said we could help.”

Carlos opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to be about to say something when two kids sprinted down the hallway behind him, knocking him into Evie.

“Sorry!” One of the kids, a blond girl, grabbed the book that had fallen out of Carlos’ hands and tossed it to Evie.

Carlos stepped away from Evie and watched the kids continue down the hall. He was cradling his arm again.

“Okay,” he said.

Evie grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just- not for too long, okay?”

Evie nodded eagerly. “Sure.”

o-o-o-o-o

“Mom?” Evie pulled her shoelaces free and lined up the sneakers neatly on the mat in the entryway. Carlos copied her. “I’m home!”

“In the kitchen,” Grimhilde shouted. Carlos flinched.

“It’s okay,” Evie said, leading the way down the hall.

“Who are you talking to- oh.” Grimhilde had appeared in the kitchen door. “Carlos, right?”

“Yes ma’am.” Carlos’ voice had dropped to a whisper.”

Grimhilde smiled kindly. “Oh, you don’t have to call me ma’am. Come in. I just made cookies.”

Evie grinned and followed her mother into the kitchen. Carlos lingered on the threshold, his eyes wide as he took in the room. Evie noticed, and tilted her head to one side, trying to figure out what was making Carlos look like that.

She supposed it was a big house. The houses on the Isle were small, leaning into each other, and she’d heard from Snow that most of them had rats. Here everything was shiny and clean, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies was beginning to spread past the oven. Maybe Ms. de Vil didn’t make chocolate chip cookies. Evie didn’t think she had seemed like that kind of mother.

“Here you go, Carlos,” Grimhilde said, offering Carlos a cookie. He didn’t take it, glancing fearfully from Grimhilde to Evie.

“Take it,” she urged, and he did. Something crossed Grimhilde’s face, but it was gone before Evie could read it.

“I’ll be right back,” Grimhilde said. “Evie, get yourself and Carlos some milk, okay?”

“Sure.” Evie grabbed clean glasses from the dishwasher while Grimhilde ducked out of the kitchen.

“It’s so… nice,” Carlos said. His eyes were still round with a mix of awe and terror.

Evie had never really thought about it. This had always just been home to her. But Carlos was right. It _was _nice.

She handed him a glass of milk and joined him at the breakfast bar. “Does your mom buy cookies?”

Carlos froze. “What?”

“I was thinking that she didn’t seem like someone who would make them.”

“Oh. Um.” Carlos shook his head. “She doesn’t buy cookies.” He took a deep breath. “Actually, Evie-”

The kitchen door swung open behind them. Grimhilde reentered the room, followed by Snow. Her long black hair, the same as her mother and sister’s, was tied up into several different ponytails all around her head.

“You said we could help,” Evie said, scowling at Snow.

“You can,” Snow said, rolling her eyes. “All I did was section it out.”

“Carlos,” Grimhilde said. “Would it be all right if I talked to Evie for a minute?”

Carlos wrapped his arms around himself. “Okay.”

“Snow will keep you company.”

Carlos nodded, shrinking further into himself.

Evie followed her mother out of the room. “Mom? Is everything okay?” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Why does Snow look so worried?”

“Come here.” Grimhilde took Evie into the office across the hall and closed the door. “Evie, what has Carlos told you about Cruella?”

“What- Ms. de Vil?” Evie thought about it for a moment. “Not much. I think she’s kind of strict, though.”

“Does he have any other family?” Grimhilde pressed. “Anyone else to take care of him?”

Evie shrugged. “He mentioned an older cousin. He’s studying in Paris or Amsterdam or somewhere like that. Why does he need someone else to take care of him?”

Grimhilde shook her head. “I hope he doesn’t.”

When they came out of the office, Snow was standing in the foyer, holding the front door open. “He left,” she said. “Asked for the time, and took off like a bat out of hell. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to follow him.”

Grimhilde sighed. “I’m going to… I’m going to figure out what I’m going to do.”

Evie had never been so confused in her life, but Snow was already retreating upstairs, and Grimhilde had a look on her face, one that meant there would be no point in asking questions.

o-o-o-o-o

That night, Grimhilde sent Evie to bed early. Her room was right above the kitchen, and she could hear her mother and Snow talking for almost an hour before Grimhilde started to dial a number on the phone, and Snow started to climb the stairs.

Evie threw open her bedroom door, and Snow almost toppled over. “Evie, go to bed.”

“What’s happening? What were you and Mom talking about? What’s Mom doing?”

Snow ran one hand through her hair, wincing as she encountered the ponytails. She had never gotten around to dying her hair. “Nothing, E. Everything’s fine.”

Evie crossed her arms, and Snow sighed in exasperation.

“There are some things you’re too young to understand.”

That was the last straw for Evie. “What the hell, Snow, I’m twelve years old.”

“Right. You’re twelve. I’m sixteen. And don’t fucking swear.”

Evie let the last statement slide.“So?”

“So… So Mom said not to tell you?” Snow made it sound like a question, which was how Evie knew she’d won.

_“Tell me.”_

“Alright, fine. God.” Snow pushed past Evie into her room. “Do you remember how Ms. de Vil wasn’t… the nicest woman?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Mom and I think that maybe… maybe…” Snow was struggling for words, which told Evie everything she needed to know.

“You think she’s not nice to Carlos, either.”

“Right. Like, really, really not nice.”

“Oh,” Evie whispered. “Is that why he misses school? And why he’s always limping and stuff? Because of his mom?”

“It looks that way. Mom says that Cruella wasn’t particularly stable, when they were partners, and that losing her business after Mom stopped working with her might have made it worse.”

“That’s horrible.” Evie snapped her head up to glare at her sister, even though it definitely wasn’t Snow she was mad at. “We can’t let him live there!”

“We’re not,” Snow said, but Evie wasn’t listening. She was pacing back and forth, twisting strands of her long black hair around her fingers.

Then she stopped and jerked her head back to stare at her sister.

“He could live with us!”

“Oh, Evie-”

“He could!” Evie took off down the stairs, shouting for her mother. Grimhilde was still in the kitchen, no longer on the phone, gazing at her laptop screen with a frown etched across her face. “Mom!”

Grimhilde rose from her stool. “Evie? Is everything okay?”

“Carlos can live with us, right? He shouldn’t have to live with Ms. de Vil, it’s not fair! We can adopt him, right?”

Grimhilde glared at Snow over Evie’s head. Snow shrugged.

“Sorry.”

Grimhilde sighed and knelt down in front of Evie. “Evie, I know this seems…”

She had her grown-up voice on, the one strangers sometimes used to tell Evie what a beautiful young lady she was, how she probably had all the boys swooning over her _already_, and could she please be a dear and help a poor old lady out?

“No.” Evie yanked herself away from her mother, just as Grimhilde reached out to touch her arm. “He’s my best friend.”

o-o-o-o-o

The next day, Grimhilde called Child Protective Services, asking them to investigate the de Vil household. Evie was at school. Carlos wasn’t.

When Evie got home, there was a tall, bearded man in a black suit sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Grimhilde. When the tall man saw her, he started to rise from his chair, but Grimhilde shook her head and said something Evie didn’t hear. The man sat back down, and Grimhilde gestured for Evie to go up to her room.

She didn’t. She sat on the stairs and tried to eavesdrop, but they were speaking too quietly for her to hear anything. 

o-o-o-o-o

Carlos wasn’t in school the next day, either. Evie wanted to go visit him, but she didn’t actually know where he lived, and it wasn’t like she could search the whole Isle.

She asked at the office, on her way out to the bus, but they told her that student records were confidential, and they couldn’t just hand out kid’s addresses, which Evie found irritating.

She tried her mother’s address book, but the entry for Cruella de Vil had long since been erased, and written over with the number of some consultant in Nepal.

She asked Snow, but she wasn’t at all surprised when that didn’t work, either.

If her mother knew, she wasn’t helping. So Evie decided to search the whole Isle, even though she knew it was a terrible idea.

She snuck out of the house while her mother made yet another phone call (Evie couldn’t tell if this one was for work, or if it was about Carlos) and started walking. She had no idea what she was doing, but she found a bus stop and slipped on behind an older couple, hoping people would assume she was their grandchild or something. It must have worked, because no one asked her any questions.

She rode the bus past the Downtown area, as far as it would go. Evie had travelled plenty for her mother’s career, but she’d never been to the Isle. She had only a vague idea of where exactly Auradon stopped being Auradon and started being the Isle, but she knew from listening to people talk that it was somewhere south of Downtown. 

People were right. Evie got off at the last stop, trailing along after a woman in a long purple dress with spiky white hair. The woman was holding a girl about Evie’s age firmly by the hand; the girl was complaining about something, trying to yank herself free of her mother’s grip. Evie sympathized- she hadn’t let her mother hold her hand like that since she was nine.

Evie could tell the difference between this neighborhood and her own almost immediately. There were piles of trash blowing up against the walls of the buildings, and everyone’s clothes seemed dirtier and worn.

Evie was also just starting to realize that being here was possibly the worst idea she’d ever had, and she still had no idea where she was going. The woman with the spiky hair had stopped to talk to someone at a street corner up ahead; her daughter had twisted free and was peering at Evie curiously.

Evie took a deep breath and walked over. “Hi.”

The girl didn’t say anything; just raised her chin and looked down at Evie imperiously, despite being several inches shorter.

“Do you know where Ms. de Vil lives?” Evie asked.

The other girl raised one eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m friends with her son.”

The girl pointed back down the way Evie had come. “That way. It’s called Cedar Street, I think. Then you turn left on Wilmington Court. The place is called Hell Hall. The big mansion with the creepy gargoyles out front.”

Evie had no way of knowing if this girl was telling the truth, but she thanked her anyway and started walking.

The street in question was called Wilmington Drive, not Wilmington Court, but Evie knew she was in the right place the moment she stepped onto the cracked asphalt. There were only a few houses; most of them were large, sprawling remnants of gothic mansions, but one of them had a shiny red car parked in the driveway. Evie knew that car. When she was six, she’d had a vivid nightmare about being devoured by its engine.

Evie turned into the driveway of Hell Hall. There was a gate, but it wasn’t closed. One side was hanging off its hinges.

The front door was closed, but the window off to the left wasn’t. Of course, this was mostly because there was no glass in the frame, but Evie didn’t question it. She stepped off the half-rotted wooden porch into the dead shrubs under the windows, ignored the prick of thorns, and boosted herself in through the hole in the wall.

Evie found herself in a spacious front hall. There was no furniture and no light beyond what came in through the windows. The house was silent.

“Carlos?” Evie whispered. Her voice echoed slightly. She shivered.

“Evie?”

Evie spun around and almost jumped back out the window. Carlos was lingering at the top of the stairs. Evie couldn’t see him very clearly, but he didn’t look good. His white hair glowed above a face that was more purple and blue and yellow and green than pale and freckled.

“Carlos.” Evie wanted to cry, but she didn’t think that would be a good idea just then. 

“You have to go,” Carlos whispered, creeping down the stairs. He and Evie both flinched when his foot hit a loose floorboard. “Mom doesn’t like visitors.”

Evie took in the state of the house, Carlos’ face, how scared he seemed. “I want to help you.”

But Carlos was already shaking his head.

“You can’t,” he said. “I’m okay here.”

“Carlos!” Evie watched the color drain from Carlos’ face under his bruises. The voice was high and shrill, but somehow also rough and rattling. “Carlos, baby! I need you.”

“Please go,” Carlos moaned, closing his eyes.

Evie shook her head. Carlos sprinted back up the stairs, and Evie followed.

Ms. de Vil was sitting in the middle of a ruined sitting room on the second floor. Her feet rested on a three-legged ottoman, the fourth leg having long since vanished. Her chair was a padded leather recliner, one of the nicest pieces of furniture Evie had seen in the house. It looked far too modern to be original to the mansion. All Evie could see of Carlos’ mother was the puff of pure white hair- the same as Carlos’- peeking out from over the back of the recliner. Carlos stood in front of his mother, not really looking at her.

“Did you finish your chores, pet?” Ms. de Vil asked. “You know Mummy doesn’t want to punish you. And she won’t have to if you finish your chores.”

“I’m almost done,” Carlos murmured.

“What was that?” 

“I’m almost done,” Carlos said, louder. “I still have to wash the car, and brush your furs…” his voice trailed off as his mother rose from her chair. Evie sucked in a breath and pressed herself farther into the shadows of the doorway.

Ms. de Vil was dressed in a long, black and white fur coat- one of the ones she’d made from live dalmatian puppies. She seemed thinner than Evie remembered, but her long nails were as clawlike as ever. The fingers of her right hand curled around a cigarette, the end glowing a cheerful orange that somehow made the whole scene creepier. Her hair formed a wild white cloud around her head. Evie thought she must have been wearing heels, because she towered over her son- but then, Carlos was a small boy, and Evie didn’t think she’d ever been quite so aware of that as she was then.

“Carlos, darling,” Ms. de Vil said. “I asked you to have your chores finished by this morning. I even gave you _extra time_.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said.

“You know I don’t want to do this,” Ms. de Vil continued, acting as though Carlos had never spoken. “But it’s for your own good. You know that, don’t you?”

Even years later, Evie was never sure exactly what happened next. Ms. de Vil seemed to reach for her son’s arm in slow motion. She raised the cigarette. Carlos closed his eyes.

Evie found herself on the other side of the room- she had no idea how she’d gotten there. She shoved Ms. de Vil away from Carlos- she didn’t remember doing that, either.

What she did remember was the look on Ms. de Vil’s face- surprise rapidly transforming into anger- as she fell back into her recliner.

Evie also remembered the sound Carlos had made, almost a yelp, when Ms. de Vil rose again. It was the first sound of fear she’d heard from him.

“Who are you?” Ms. de Vil snapped. “Get out of my house.”

“No.” Evie didn’t know what she was doing. “You’ll hurt Carlos.”

“Carlos needs to learn his lesson, dear. One day, you’ll understand.” Ms. de Vil smiled, and for the first time, Evie understood that Carlos’ mother was insane.

Ms. de Vil raised the cigarette again. Evie reached for Carlos at the same time his mother did. The lit end of the cigarette fell on her wrist.

Evie screamed. She couldn’t help it- she had very little experience with pain, and this was fire on her skin. Carlos yanked her back, and she grabbed her wrist, watching the skin finish turning a violent shade of red. It still burned.

Just then, someone knocked on the front door.

“Hello? Ms. de Vil? I’m going to ask you to open the door.”

For a moment, everything was still.

“Ms. de Vil? If you don’t, we will use force.”

Ms. de Vil spun around and stomped out to the landing. She didn’t make it down the stairs before there was a loud thud, and a crunch, and the door swung open- someone had kicked it in. 

A small group of people stood on the porch of Hell Hall. Evie could see them through the window, and she moved to the door of the sitting room to get a better look, Carlos following behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Cruella demanded. “This is breaking and entering!”

“We have a warrant to search this residence,” a man in the blue-and-gold uniform of the Auradon City Police Department said. “A charge has been brought up against you.”

“What- who could possibly-” Ms. de Vil began.

Her face blanched. She turned to stare at Evie. “I knew I recognized you,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

The people in the entrance hall followed her gaze.

“My God,” a woman in a gray pantsuit gasped. She began to climb the stairs two at a time, followed by several officers. The rest of them moved to restrain Ms. de Vil. The woman knelt down in front of Evie and Carlos. She noted the way Evie cradled her wrist, and the way Carlos shrank back into the shadows at her approach.

“Hello,” she began uncertainly. “My name is Sydney Glass. I’m going to help you, okay? Can you tell me your names?”

Carlos was silent. Evie tilted her chin up.

“You have to take him away from her,” she said, pointing first at Carlos, then at Ms. de Vil, who was furious now, snapping and snarling at the officers like a rabid dog as they hauled her back outside.

“I will do my very best,” Sydney Glass promised.

“I’m Evie Mills,” Evie said. “This is Carlos de Vil.”

“Mills?” Sydney turned back to the officers, a few of whom lingered in the doorway. “This is the Mills girl,” she called down the stairs. Then she turned back to Evie. “Your mother and sister are worried sick about you.”

o-o-o-o-o

After that, Evie stopped paying attention, because Carlos had begun to cry.

All the way to the police station, Evie stayed close to Carlos, and she kicked up a fuss when they arrived, and Sydney Glass tried to take Carlos away. Eventually, they were allowed to sit in an empty room together until Grimhilde and Snow were ushered in and swept Evie up into a hug.

When Grimhilde made to approach Carlos, he flinched away. To Evie’s surprise, it was Snow who had the best luck with him, dropping down on the bench next to him and casually resting an arm along the back of the bench, not touching him, but leaving the option open until Carlos leaned into her embrace.

After that, Grimhilde got out her phone and made more calls. They answered questions for the police. Grimhilde yelled at some people, and Snow backed her up.

Sydney Glass had Grimhilde sign some papers, granting her temporary guardianship of Carlos de Vil. They piled into Grimhilde’s navy blue minivan and went to the hospital. Evie’s wrist was bandaged, and Carlos was admitted to a room on the second floor. Midnight found him awake, Evie sleeping in a ball next to him and Snow leaning back against the footboard of the narrow hospital bed.

On the other side of the door, Grimhilde made more phone calls.

o-o-o-o-o

**Five Months Later**

The day Carlos officially became a member of the Mills family was marked by a court date and another signed piece of paper, because Carlos had been a member of the Mills family since the day he’d come home from the hospital and fallen asleep in Evie’s bed, his sisters on either side of him and Grimhilde- his mother- watching from the doorway.

It was, however, the day that Evie found her brother standing in the hall bathroom, frowning at his reflection and considering Snow’s wide range of hair products.

“I want to dye it,” he explained to Evie without looking away from the mirror.

“Okay.” Evie reached for a bottle of Tanzanite blue and frowned. “This isn’t blue.”

“Sure it is.” Snow squeezed past Evie into the bathroom. She appraised her younger siblings and nodded once in a decisive way. “Want blue hair, Evie?”

Evie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Sit down.” Snow reached for the bleach bucket. “What about you, little bro?”

Carlos smiled shyly. “Can you cover it? I don’t want to look like… _her_ anymore.” He gestured unhappily to his head of pure white curls.

Snow poked around through her stash of dye. “Your hair’s cool, though. Tell you what. I’ll dye the roots.”

Carlos tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Snow laughed. “You’ll like it, don’t worry. Now.” She stabbed her finger at the edge of the bathtub. “You two, sit.” She snatched up an old paintbrush and started pouring bleach into a dish. The smell made Carlos’ nose wrinkle and Evie’s eyes water.

She caught her brother’s gaze and grinned.

o-o-o-o-o

**Five Years Later**

Evie leaned back against the trunk of the vast oak tree that took up most of Mal’s backyard. Next to her, her girlfriend rested her chin on Evie’s shoulder, playing with Evie’s fingers in Mal’s lap. She gently caressed the side of Evie’s hand before flipping her palm over. The tips of Mal’s fingers passed over the raised scar on the side of Evie’s wrist.

“What happened? That looks intentional.” Mal’s brow was furrowed with worry.

Evie hesitated, biting her lip. She glanced up. Sprawled out on the grass a few feet away, Carlos had his head in Jay’s lap, letting his boyfriend comb through his newly straightened hair.

At Evie’s silence, Carlos turned his head and shrugged. “You can tell her.” No one in the Mills family ever told this story without Carlos’ permission.

“It was a… parting gift,” Evie said. “From Carlos’ birth mother.” Cruella de Vil had been in prison for almost six years, but Evie still felt a shadow of the old fear whenever she was mentioned, and she knew it was nothing compared to how Carlos felt.

Mal squeezed Evie’s fingers. Evie told her the story.

When she finished, Mal, Jay, and Carlos were quiet. Jay, who had heard all this before, pulled Carlos up and into his side. Mal shook her head and twisted her fingers through Evie’s hair.

“God,” she said after a few minutes. “I’m so sorry, C.”

Carlos shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

Evie knew that five years wasn’t nearly long enough, but she didn’t say anything.

Mal drove them home, and Evie stopped Carlos on the front porch of their mother’s house. “’Los?”

“Yeah?” Carlos turned to face her, one hand on the doorknob.

Evie shrugged. “I’m glad you’re my brother.”

Carlos grinned. “Me too.”

They went into the house. 


End file.
